She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 1003

Helena stared at him for a long time.

Morris was resting on his side, propped up on one elbow. The very hand that had gripped her hips so ruthlessly moments ago was now lazily toying with the strands of hair scattered across her pillow.

His features looked incredibly sharp in the dim lighting. His long eyelashes lowered, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips, as if the torrential storm they had just weathered was nothing more than a casual game he had played just to humor her.

The room next door.

A full collection.

Helena suddenly laughed.

She reached up, her fingertip pressing into the red scratch mark she had clawed into his collarbone. She pressed down with just enough force to feel his muscles tense instinctively beneath her touch.

"Sure," Helena said, her voice still rough and raspy from being thoroughly wrecked. "But I'm in charge."

Morris's eyebrow twitched slightly, followed immediately by a low chuckle. "Of course. Just like I promised."

Helena rolled over and climbed out of bed.

Her legs were practically jelly. Her knees trembled the second she put her weight on them, but she quickly steadied herself. Glancing down at the torn remnants of her clothes on the floor, she kicked them aside and picked up the black silk robe Morris had left draped over a chair, wrapping it tightly around herself.

The robe swallowed her. The hem brushed her ankles, and the cool silk was a sharp contrast against her flushed skin. The entire garment was saturated with his crisp, woodsy cologne.

Barefoot, she walked out of the master bedroom and pushed open the slightly ajar door to the room next door.

The moment she flicked the lights on, she had to squint.

The room wasn't huge, but the layout was incredibly deliberate.

Glass display cabinets lined the walls, filled with immaculately organized equipment. Leather restraints gleamed with a muted sheen under the warm lighting, some of which Helena had only ever seen in pictures.

In the dead center of the room sat a specialized leather chair, lined with rows of adjustable metal D-rings along the armrests.

"You really have everything, don't you?" Helena glanced back at Morris, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

He had pulled on a pair of dark grey sweatpants, his chest still bare. The fresh scratch marks raking down his back were starkly illuminated by the hallway light behind him.

His posture was entirely relaxed. Submissive, even.

Helena walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a pair of heavy leather cuffs.

His eyes were impossibly tender and clear.

Helena took a deep breath and stepped behind him.

Morris didn't flinch.

Helena stared at the faint mark, and this time, she swung with real force.

The sharp *crack* of the impact was deafening in the enclosed room.

Finally, his body reacted. Morris pitched forward slightly before immediately catching himself and steadying his posture.

A pale red welt instantly flared across his bare back. The edges were stark white, promising to bloom into a deep, angry crimson in seconds.

"Does it hurt?" Helena asked.

Morris turned his head to look over his shoulder. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his temples, making his dark eyes look even deeper.

He smiled, his voice as smooth as ever, though laced with a dark, husky edge.